


Military Man

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Dominance, First Time, M/M, Medical Kink, Military Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:45:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s the way it is for you, huh? Serving in the military must have been bliss.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Military Man

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first explicit writing. ever.. im sorry if its really really bad.... i wrote it on the bus to work over like 5 days and let me tell you i have never been so afraid of someone reading over my shoulder. you can also read it on tumblr here: http://sexspores.tumblr.com/post/98765878529/military-man-boone-arcade

Boone was not a man of many words. Arcade knew that. He had come to understand it, to respect it, even. It seemed that while Six was off galavanting with Lily and the old legion dog, Boone was the only one of those left at the Lucky 38 that actually knew when to shut up.

That's why this sudden outburst startled him so much.

"Sorry," he said, turning away from the ancient textbook he was flipping through and towards Boone's stony face. "What was that?"

He could have sworn that the sniper's eyebrow twitched. "I asked if you were busy." Boone reiterated, moving to lean against the lounge wall.

"When am I ever?" Arcade replied, running a hand through his hair. The relative safety Six provided was refreshing after a life in the wastes, however, there was only so much wandering around the giant hotel he could do in between his Followers work before life just got… dull. _Nihil novi sub sole_ , he thought.

Boone shifted. "I think a walk would do us good," he stated, offering his hand to the seated Arcade. Arcade pulled himself up, cracking his knees with a loud pop.

"Anywhere in particular in mind? Gomorrah? Big guy like you might be more into the Wrangler's fare, eh?" He said with a smirk, eyes a little out of focus.

They got into the elevator, trusting Victor's ability to send them to the casino floor without being told. "I don't know what you're implying," Boone stated.

"I don't really either," Arcade chuckled in reply, cleaning his glasses on the stained sleeve of his lab coat. "Really, though, where are we headed? Nowhere too unscrupulous I hope. A nerdy twig like me, a big strapping soldier like you; people might talk." Boone shrugged. The ancient doors of the casino creaked open, temporarily blinding the two with mid-morning sun. After a moment of adjustment, he spoke up.

"I guess I want to see something outside of the city again."

Six didn't take more than one person with them at a time. They didn’t say why, and nobody really asked either, unless it was quietly to themselves after a few shots. Some people didn’t care. Raul was happier to wander the streets of Freeside or fiddle with some of House’s old technology than risk breaking any more bones that would never heal. Boone, however, did not take well to being abandoned by the courier.  The first friend Six made after receiving the headshot, the first person Boone trusted after doling out a headshot of his own, he always felt their bond wasn’t as simply explained as “friendship”. Something more like how he once felt about Manny, or any other of his First Recon buddies. To him, Six’s mere decision to travel without him was desertion.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

On Arcade’s insistence, they stopped in at the Mormon Fort on their way out of town. Boone sat near the large wooden door, while Arcade tried to locate Julie. He found her in her watchtower lab, thumbing through what appeared to be a finance clipboard. “What are you looking at?” he asked in place of a greeting.

“Oh hello,” Julie replied, allowing the pages to flip back to their original positions. “Just some old world figures I couldn’t care less about. April sent me to find some schematics but,” she sighed, gesturing to the room around her. “Look at this mess.”

Arcade spoke as briefly as he could, something that did not come easily for him. A few minutes later, he re-emerged from the tower carrying a worn leather doctor’s bag and a floppy sunhat. Boone, seated on a long-empty supply crate, let out a short chuckle at the headpiece.

“Nice hat,” he said, standing to leave. Arcade would not look him in the eye.

“Julie insisted,” he grumbled, stuffing it into the doctor’s bag.

Once they exited Freeside, their walk was mostly uninterrupted. It was barely 10 am, the Fiends still slept while the travelling merchants had already head out long ago. Arcade kept up most of the conversation, Boone replying with the occasional four word phrase. They headed vaguely southwest, following old world roads turned NCR stomping grounds, and eventually found themselves standing in front of McCarran’s front gate.

“Any reason you brought me here, apart from once again pointing out the fact that you are, in fact, a decorated soldier? Which I get, by the way. You know how to handle a big gun.” Arcade deadpanned, stopping only when a slight red tinged Boone’s cheeks. The expression “to tickle a sleeping giant” running through his head, he shut his mouth quickly.

“I guess I was just thinking of it,” he stated, and took an uncomfortable, too-formal step away from McCarran. A second later, as suddenly as he had started, he stopped where he stood, paralyzed by the sound of cutting air. They both watched as a wooden spear clattered to the ground beside his feet. There was a moment of clarity.

“Fiends!” Someone exclaimed from atop the McCarran walls. Soon the metal doors rolled open and the area became a sea of studded leather armor and official brown uniforms dodging, shooting, stabbing, and falling. Arcade was frozen with the suddenness of it all. The smell of burning hair and increasingly pained yells of an NCR soldier snapped him out of it, however, and he saw through the mess of writhing bodies the unmistakable body of Cook-Cook’s incinerator.

“Let’s just fucking go, Boone!” He exclaimed, grabbing the man’s arm away from the scope he adjusted. Boone did not reply, only continued to quickly fiddle with his rifle and line up a good shot. A nearby hiss of dynamite. “Boone, please, I don’t even have my pistol!” he yelled at the aiming man, who continued to ignore him. A shot rang out and Boone’s shoulder quaked with the kickback. Arcade saw the nose of the incinerator turn towards them.

“Boone,” he said, in a tone of voice only someone faced with a fiery death can achieve, “We are leaving. Right. Now.” Boone faltered and Arcade grabbed his arm in a death grip. “RUN!” he exclaimed, pulling the soldier away from the camp gates, not quite sure where they were running quite yet. The damaged face of the El Rey motel crested the horizon, and Arcade made the executive decision that this was their new target. A bullet whizzed by somewhere to the left of his head. He began to run faster, and it wasn't until he had ducked behind a grungy pre-war dumpster that he noticed that Boone was no longer with him.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, "Boone!" No reply came. After a second, Arcade poked his head around the corner. The fiends were no longer in pursuit, but Boone was nowhere to be seen. Until, that is, he looked on the ground.

Boone was kneeling on the cracked pavement, fingers clenched around his side, from where a dark stain was growing. Instinct took over, and Arcade bolted for his fallen friend.

"Get up, get up, get up," he repeated, grabbing Boone's bicep that braced him against the ground and pulling him to his feet.

"I'm fine," Boone said, too calm for the pain on his face.

"Like fuck you are," Arcade said, throwing Boone's arm over his shoulder and half helping, half dragging him around back of the motel, where he dropped the bleeding man on the dirty ground. "Keep putting pressure on it," he commanded, and dropped to his knees, straddling Boone's hips in an attempt to keep him still. Arcade ripped open the doctor's bag, scattering its contents across the ground.

"I'm fine," Boone once again insisted, wincing as Arcade dabbed away the blood with a swab of wet gauze.

"Shut up," Arcade grimaced, too engulfed in cleaning away the blood to notice the slight twitch in Boone's pants. Boone, confused about the origins the heavy feeling building in his gut, fell into customary silence and let Arcade do his work.

"Where the hell is the entry point?" Arcade asked once the gauze had wiped away most of the blood. He probed at the deep gash in Boone's side, feeling for a bullet, but nothing came except more of Boone's pained groans. "You are one lucky man, you know?" he said after a second, realization dawning on him. "The bullet grazed you- it hardly even touched your obliquus externus, just dug in the flesh a bit and kept shooting by."

"I told you I was fine," Boone replied, watching Arcade gather some of the scattered medical supplies.

"You won't be for much longer," Arcade said, the humourous quality in his voice restored now he knew Boone's life wasn't in danger. He handed Boone Julie's sunhat, twisted into a rag. "Bite down. This is going to hurt." Boone complied, unsure if Arcade had noticed the reaction his words had caused in Boone's pants. He stopped worrying, however, when Arcade's dull needle first pierced his skin. He let out an uncontrollable scream of pain and violently pulled away, almost knocking Arcade off of his knees. His yelling was cut off by Arcade's hand landing firmly on his chest.

"Stay still," he said, barely above a whisper, tightening his knees around Boone's middle. This had the unfortunate effect of grinding his ass directly onto Boone's semi-erect cock, confusing the man's brain enough that he didn't notice Arcade getting ready for another stitch.

Closing the wound couldn't have taken more than two minutes, however, the confusing combination of pleasure and pain made it feel like an eternity to Boone. Once Arcade had knotted the final stitch closed, every morsel of professionality was gone from his demeanour, replaced with relieved anger.

“You’re not even wearing any armor! _Futete_!” he exclaimed, tugging on the fabric of Boone’s threadbare tshirt. “You could have gotten yourself killed! Somebody should teach you a fucking lesson!”

Boone blushed. Now that Arcade was completely unoccupied, there was no way that he had missed the hardening of his cock. Arcade’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing into an expression that sent chills down the back of Boone’s neck. It only took him a second to form a plan.

“Look what we have here,” Arcade said with a grin, the anger in his voice replaced with something else entirely. “That’s the way it is for you, huh? Serving in the military must have been bliss.” Arcade punctuated the sentence by grinding slowly along Boone’s lap. He leant forward and spoke directly into Boone’s bright red ear. “Just give me the word and I’ll stop, okay?” Boone nodded in reply, and Arcade took his earlobe in his mouth, biting softly. When Boone moaned, he drew back into a seated position, now grinding on Boone in earnest. There was a visible tent in his pants.

“Must have been great, to get out on the field, get ordered around, treated like the scum you are until you came in your pants, and to be able to come back to camp and find any horny son of a bitch who would use your slut hole like their personal cum dump,” Arcade said, his tone too casual for the filth he was sprouting. Boone laughed internally at just how inaccurate Arcade was, however the enjoyment that the fantasy was bringing him was enough to make up for the factual errors. “Not much privacy in the military either. Everyone must have known exactly how you liked it, exactly how to take your whore ass. No running water out there, either, you must have revelled in being told exactly how to lick your own cum off your commanding officers’ boots. You soldier boys got glory holes in those camps?”

Arcade punctuated the sentence with a final, long grind, and lifted himself off of Boone’s body, assuming a formal posture, his arms folded behind his back and chin held high. “On your knees,” he said, and Boone moved quickly, failing to notice the dopey grin on his own face. For a moment, Arcade did nothing but stare. “I asked you a fucking question,” he suddenly snapped. “Have you ever sucked at a glory hole?”

“No,” Boone said, truthfully. Despite Arcade’s hard tone and set lips, his eyes were full of the same friendly flame they always had been, which turned him on even more. His cock was leaking pre-cum.

“No what?” Arcade replied. “You may be a slut but you aren’t some Atomic Wrangler hooker, Sergeant, act like it.”

“No, sir,” Boone corrected. Cigarette smoke floated on the wind from somewhere nearby.

“What a shame,” Arcade said, placing one of his pointed brahmin-skin shoes on Boone’s shoulder, leg muscles tense to keep from pushing too hard on his recently-injured body. Boone both noticed and appreciated this. “It would have been the perfect place for you to get some relief. Suck anonymous cock all night and wake up in the morning not knowing exactly whose cum you had swallowed, only knowing that they knew exactly who had swallowed theirs.”

Boone moaned in earnest, and if that sound coming out of his bloody, smiling mouth wasn’t the hottest thing Arcade had ever seen, he’d wrestle a deathclaw. He trailed his booted foot from Boone’s shoulder to his crotch, and pressed very lightly on the bulge in the soldier’s cargo pants. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice soft. Boone blushed, but did not answer. Arcade quickly removed his heel from Boone’s crotch, which provoked a small shudder from him. “Are you okay?” Arcade asked, his face contorting with worry, to which Boone very enthusiastically nodded. Arcade's relaxed, and reached forward to grab Boone by the base of his neck.

“I just,” Boone said, refusing to meet Arcade’s eyes. “I want your cock,” he stated, biting open a scab in his lip.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Arcade asked, quirking up an eyebrow. The amount of emotions that passed through Boone’s face at that moment was higher than Arcade had ever seen.

“I want your cock, sir. Please,” he said through a tight mouth, his hips making small jerking movements without his permission.

“And where do you want it," Arcade asked, unbuckling his belt and taking it off in a quick, no nonsense fashion. His cock strained against the zipper of his blood spattered beige pants. Boone reached out and rubbed the bulge with an inexperienced hand.

"Answer me!" Arcade exclaimed, grabbing Boone by the jaw, rubbing his thumb down across Boone's chapped lips.

"I want to suck your cock, sir." Boone said. From this angle, Arcade could see that his eyes were closed beneath his sunglasses. He could also see that Boone's cock was no longer being quite so neglected.

"You disgust me," he said, slapping Boone across the cheek, earning a moan from the kneeling man. "I can't believe you're getting off on this, you dirty whore. They shouldn't let perverts like you serve. Keep touching your cock if you want, but if you spill a single drop, your pervert ass is in trouble." Arcade thought that was a particularly nice touch- he rarely bottomed, but when he did he really did not enjoy being told what to do with his own penis. With that, Arcade opened his fly and released his swollen cock.

Boone seemed unsure of what to do. He took the tip in his mouth, running his top along the ridge where Arcade's head retreated into its foreskin. Arcade moaned. He hadn't realized just how pent up the foreplay had left him. Boone explored, moving his mouth as far down as he could on Arcade's dick, hollowing his cheeks and pulling back to the head, tongue making clumsy spirals around the shaft. Despite the minimal attention, Arcade was having trouble not cumming already. It was like every dirty drunken thought and wet dream had suddenly become reality, and those had been enough to get him off alone, with a partner it was practically torture.

Boone pulled his lips off Arcade’s cock. He said something that Arcade could not hear, however it was easy to tell by his body language that he was not very happy to be saying it.

"What was that?" Arcade asked, his hands absently tracing the lines of Boone's muscular shoulders.

Boone's voice was barely audible when he replied. "I can't stop thinking about you," he paused, his jaw hard and eyes downcast. He took a deep breath and stated his entire request quickly, as if were one word. "...Fuckingmymouth."

Arcade laughed. He remembered that trick from when he was inexperienced- let the one getting sucked do all the work, and focus on learning not to choke. "If you want. You asked for it," he said, also remembering how this solution never worked as it should. "Tap me if you want me to stop, but if you bite me I'll knock your teeth out." Boone blushed deeper, now as purple as a beet. Arcade was surprised his body was working at all, considering all his blood seemed to be in his cheeks and his cock. "Open up," Arcade commanded, grabbing his cock and directing it towards Boone's mouth. Once the tip rested on his wet tongue, Arcade stopped pumping his own shaft and grabbed Boone's head roughly.

"Ready?" He asked, scratching his stubby nails against Boone's scalp.

Boone let out a muffled sound of assent, his mouth closed around Arcade's length. Arcade nodded, steadying himself on his feet, and snapped his hips forward. The shallow thrust barely hit the back of Boone's throat, however knowing that the tight wetness moaning around him belonged to the usually reserved sniper felt like enough to send Arcade over the edge at that moment. He tentatively started to thrust faster, developing a pattern that allowed Boone to breathe regularly without removing the severity of his actions. He reveled in the feeling of his head hitting the slick back wall of Boone's throat, as well as the moans it brought with it from both of them.

He thrust faster, his head swimming and control loosening. "You like this?" he asked, too overwhelmed to create a proper sentence, watching the stretch of Boone's lips around his flushed shaft. "This what you fucking wanted, whore?"

Boone moaned in desire, and the the combination of the lustful noise and the way his throat vibrated as he made it was too much for Arcade. He pulled Boone onto his cock as far as he could go, and, his body folded forward, came down Boone's throat with a shudder, his head snapping back involuntarily and a soft moan tumbling from his lips.

He gave himself a second before pulling out, leaving his hands resting on Boone's scalp. He watched, staring down his nose like a bird of prey, as Boone seemed to struggle with what he should do with the viscous liquid at the back of his throat. After a few seconds, Arcade watched his adam's apple bob and tongue instinctively swipe over his lips. There was nothing to lick up, however, and soon he fell still again. Arcade watched, the only movement coming from Boone's hips where his hand furiously pumped his cock, pants stretched awkwardly at his knees.

"You're a good man, you know?" Arcade asked, every stroke of the back of Boone's head punctuated a quick scrape of the nails. "You did good." Boone looked at the ground, the only indication that he had heard him at all was the increase in pace from his hand. "You want help with that?" Arcade asked gently, crouching down and placing his hand over Boone's.

"Yes," Boone replied, falling back onto his elbows.

"What was that, sergeant?" Arcade asked, untying Boone's boots and pulling his pants and boxers off completely.

"Yes sir," Boone said, having almost forgotten about the fantasy that had put him in this situation.

"On your stomach," Arcade commanded. Boone complied, and heard some sounds of rustling consistent with the worn leather of the doctors bag. "Shit," Arcade mumbled to himself, scanning the ground for the small tin of oil Julie had insisted he bring with him despite his insistence that it would never be used. He found it after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, and the lid opened with a small click.

Boone waited for something, anything to happen, but for a moment there was nothing but anticipatory silence. Then, like a crack of lightning, Arcade's hand slapped violently onto Boone's behind. Boone yelped, and Arcade chuckled in reply.

"Ass up," he said. Boone wiggled his knees forward, leaving him bent on the ground, completely exposed and at Arcade's mercy. The humiliating position did nothing but further his desire for release.

The slick hand that rested on Boone's back now travelled to his cock, pulling leisurely. Boone was a little confused about the direction Arcade was going, at least until he felt something wet poke at his tensed hole, circling lightly around the entrance.

"You have to loosen up," Arcade stated, using the tip of a gloved finger to push slightly, attempting some form of penetration. Boone grunted in reply, willing the muscles to let up. He only realized he was successful when suddenly the first joint of Arcade's slender finger was swirling softly inside of him. It stung, but was not a fully unfamiliar sensation. Boone searched for why it wasn’t, when it suddenly came to him.

"You're making me feel like I'm getting a physical, doc," he said, not finding anything particularly arousing about the experience.

"Wisecracks now, sergeant?" Arcade said. Boone could hear the smile in his voice. "When I have you in such a vulnerable position?" Before Boone could open his mouth, Arcade's finger thrust forward, running along the lower wall of Boone's anus, still continuing it's methodical search. It stopped in its tracks, and began rubbing in small circles that sent heat straight into Boone's crotch. Boone moaned in spite of himself, planting his face into the crook of his elbow as Arcade finger fucked him.

"A little different from a physical, eh?" Arcade asked, easing a second finger into Boone's ass. He started to thrust with them, thumb planted on Boone's taint and first two fingers plunging in and out of his hole at a rapidly increasing rate. "This what you were looking for, soldier-boy? This what you brought me out here for? To get fucked in some alley like the dirty slut you are?" Boone let out a groan, now thrusting back onto Arcade's fingers with complete abandon. Watching Boone impale himself on Arcade’s hand sent him into a sort of reverie, watching the events unfold, focussed only of the sensuality of the scene. " _Numquid, cum crisas, blandior esse potes_ ," Arcade mumbled to himself, feeling his body attempting to get hard again. Boone let out a particularly loud moan and Arcade turned his attention back to the man below him.  "This what you came here for, Boone? To show me what you're really made of? To let me know that I'm not going to have to spend my caps at the Wrangler anymore, that the Lucky 38 has got our own military whore?" Boone squirmed and thrusted, Arcade's movement growing even faster. "Tell me, Boone, was this your plan all along?" He whispered, mouth ghosting over Boone's ear.

Boone couldn't take it anymore. He came violently, hips jerking forward, cum spurting onto his own chest. Arcade milked him through it, fingers rubbing his pulsing prostate gland until he was completely spent. Arcade carefully extracted his finger’s from Boone, red-faced and breathing heavily. Removing the glove from his hand, Arcade sat down, his cock still lying limply over his stomach.

"Are you good?" He asked, watching as Boone rolled over and put himself into a semi-sitting position against the wall of the motel.

"Better than good," Boone said, his lips barely moving around the words. He pulled up his pants and took off his cum stained shirt before working on tying up the laces on his boots.  "Could do with a shot of Med-X, though," he said, running his fingers over the bandaged suture on his side.

"Of course," Arcade said, tucking his soft cock into his pants and moving to remove the safety off of a clean syringe. He shuffled to Boone and motioned for him to hold out an arm. "I have some cream for any internal pain you're feeling back at the 38," he stated, pushing the plunger into the syringe’s body and letting the drug flow into Boone's vein. "Don't pretend it doesn't ache, I felt how tight you were."

"I'll take it," Boone said, slipping his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Arcade began to reassemble the scattered contents of his doctor's bag.

"You were really good," he said, his tone forcibly detached. "More than good, actually. You were really... Attractive." Boone's heart turned in his chest. Flashes of Carla, of Cass, of Six ran through his mind at lightning speed. Now that the pains in his side, throat, and ass were less noticeable, the emotional ones definitely were.

"I'm not gay," he said, staring into Arcade's eyes when the blonde's head snapped to face him. "I'm not."

"That's irrelevant," Arcade said after a moment of silent calculation, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm not looking for a relationship. 'It's not gay if you don't kiss,' they say. I've heard it often enough from army boys like you it must be true. It doesn’t have to be gay."

Boone laughed uncomfortably. "I didn't realize we were so cut-and-dry," he said, stuffing his soiled shirt into his backpack.

"I _do_ have a type. So," Arcade held out his hand and pulled Boone to his feet. "You in for this again?"

Boone paused, then grunted a yes, nodding his head slowly. He was not a man of many words, Arcade knew that, but he also knew that, with a little experimentation, he would make him into one.

 

 


End file.
